


Desiderium

by alphonse18



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Connor, Eventual Explicit Content, Fluffy sometimes, Hank is a dick sometimes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not really amnesia, Slow Burnish?, Top Hank, Will add tags as I go, because goddamn these boys deserve it, but Connor doesnt have access to all his memories, but is actually a big ol softie, case(kindof) fic, especially when there's smut, for both of them, injured!Connor, sort of explicit crime scene/violence, title changed from 'RK800' to 'Desiderium'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphonse18/pseuds/alphonse18
Summary: On his way home from a bar, Lieutenant Hank Anderson expects a silent and peaceful walk back home.Instead, he finds a bloodied and injured android by the name of Connor.





	Desiderium

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I have been eager to write a Hannor fic for a while now, and I'm so fucking excited.  
> Not beta'd so let me know if there are any mistakes!
> 
> Also to explain the title name, desiderium is defined as "an ardent desire or longing especially : a feeling of loss or grief for something lost."

_“Another grizzly murder occurred last night. An android was slaughtered and left unrecognizable. It appears to be eerily similar to a string of murders that have been going on for months now. Is there a possible android hating serial killer on the loose? Detroit police have yet to make a statement. Should humans and androids alike fear for-”_

Hank scoffed, tuning out the reporter on the television and downing the rest of his drink. Enjoying the familiar burn, he mulled over the trash the reporter spewed. 

While never prone to caring for the new intelligent form of life, Hank didn't hate them. He had always been a firm believer in "treat others how you want to be treated.” Regardless of if they were made of flesh and blood or thirium and plastic. 

Having just handled another android murder case, Hank had needed a drink, and was just now leaving the bar at a quarter till one in the morning. Eager for sleep and thankful he didn’t need to go into the station for a few days. A vacation, Fowler had said, after telling him he looked like shit. Hank had argued of course, but the recent influx of android hate crimes was starting to take a toll on him. 

Head fuzzy, he was relieved to not have to think for a while and shoved his hands into his coat pocket to keep warm. With every exhale, his breath was visible and he wondered why he stayed in Detroit. The winters were fucking brutal.

A muffled groan stopped the lieutenant in his tracks. Brows furrowed in confusion, he listened, taking a few cautious steps forward. An open dumpster was ahead to his left, and he moved towards it. 

Peering over the top of the open dumpster, Hank cursed and stared wide at the sight before him. It was dark, so it was hard to make out, but the man within it, struggling to get up, wasn't. The man was covered in blue, shiny in the lamplight. 

“Just my fucking luck,” Hank muttered. He couldn’t seem to get away from from work, and he certainly couldn’t just leave the android be. 

Said android was watching him, a wary look present on his thirium stained face. A look of slight fear in his blue eyes as Hank stood there observing him. 

In a voice that was far too soft than he normally used, Hank said, “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, dont worry. Let’s get you out of there, huh?”

The android hesitated for a moment, LED ring spinning from red, to yellow as he thought over Hank’s words. The man thought it odd, since most androids tended to remove it after the Revolution. But hey, fuck if he cared, free world and all. For humans and androids alike. 

Hank slowly held out his hand; careful not to spook the android. A few moments pass, and a shaky hand is placed in his, ice cold. 

“Shit, how long have you been out here?” Hank asks, realizing the android must have his temperature feature switched on. 

The android blinks, most likely trying to determine the amount of time, but all he does it is shake his head. 

Hank pulls, and with help from the other man, they manage to get him out of the dumpster. He leans against the cold metal, panting in exertion, and the lieutenant crouches down beside him. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, surveying the damage that he could see on the injured man. 

The android opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His brows dip in concentration, and he clears his throat, voice scratchy and strained, “Connor.”

Hank returns the favor, “Hank. Nice to meet you Connor, though perhaps not under the best circumstances.”

Connor nods in agreement, and gives a slow blink. He shifts, and his voice catches, hand coming up to hold his bloodied ribs. 

“What the hell happened to you, Connor?” he asks, wondering why androids had developed software to experience pain, when he’d give anything to be rid of it. Both physical and mental. Alcohol helped though, and he blamed said substance on the fact that he was far too friendly with the man before him. Cop instinct be damned. He should probably drop Connor off at the nearest hospital. 

The LED ring circles red once more, and intense fear fills Connor’s face for a brief moment before it is replaced by confusion, “I-I can’t remember.”

That has Hank’s eyebrows raising, and he stares at the broken android before him.  
“Well, we should get you to a hospital, you’re not in good shape and -”

A frantic ‘no!’ cuts him off and a hand grips his shoulder, “No,” Connor repeats, calmer now as if he hadn’t just had an outburst, “No hospitals.” 

Hank pauses for a moment before continuing, “Okay, no hospital then. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

The LED flashes yellow, and Connor looks off to the side, his face concentrated. A single shake of his head and he replies, “I don’t...know anyone to call.”

The android’s eyes, clear blue and piercing, stared resolutely at him. Conflicted, confused and lost. Hank couldn’t help but feel bad for the android. The sigh that leaves him is one of resigned acceptance. He's too buzzed for this shit. He might regret this in the morning, but fuck it.

“Come stay with me then. At least for tonight,” Hank offers,”I can't very well leave you here injured.”

For some reason, Hank knew he was about to be told ‘yes you can’, and with a look, Connor keeps his mouth shut. And while the blue blood would fade soon enough, that didn't mean he liked looking at it cover the man in front of him. 

Connor took this in with a tilt to his head. Eyes unfocused and yellow light reflected off the dumpster behind him. Clearly trying to process Hanks request. Said man surely hoped he'd say yes. His conscious wouldn't leave him be if he just left the android here. Hank wasn’t sure where his newfound sympathy came from. Probably the alcohol. Yeah, definitely the alcohol.

Connor’s contemplation went on for minutes, though to Hank it felt like longer. His muscles were beginning to protest from his hunched position, and the cold was seeping through both his clothes and alcohol induced state.Then Connors LED settled on blue, and his eyes snapped to the older man's. Hank ignored how that almost made him choke. Cyber life really held nothing back with this one. Connor’s face, while bloodied, was exceedingly handsome in a boyish sort of way. 

“Okay, Hank. I will stay with you tonight.”

Relieved, and sure as hell ready to get home, he offers his hand to the injured android. Without any hesitation, Connor places his in Hank’s, ice cold, and the lieutenant couldn't help but grit his teeth. Irritation flashing through him. He would find whoever did this and justice would be done. 

“Come on, let's get you out of the cold. Fucking winter, I hate it,” Hank muttered. 

With obvious effort, Connor got to his feet, only to stumble a moment later. Hank had been expecting this, and caught the man, pulling an arm over his broad shoulders and wrapping his own around a trim waist. 

“I’m sorry, my functions appear to be inhibited by my injuries,” Connor admitted. 

Hank grunted, taking most of Connor’s weight and walking them to his home, which thankfully isn't far away. Snow had just started to fall just as his house came into view. He couldn’t hold back his sigh of relief as he somehow managed to unlock his door and hold Connor up at the same time. He was getting too old for this shit. 

Maneuvering the android to the couch, he gently set him down. Hank turned on the light, holding in a sound of shock as Connor’s injuries became visible. Before, only a street lamp illuminated the android, and it had concealed a lot of damage. Add on to the fact that blue still stained most of Connor and it made the lieutenant decidedly uncomfortable. 

Connor himself, while injured, appeared to be far more at ease than before. Color started to return to his face, and Hank once again wondered why the android would keep his temperature feature on. Especially in such shit weather. Any human would have guaranteed frostbite, if not the early stages of hypothermia.

Yet something prevent Hank from asking. Connor was a pitiful sight and exhaustion pulled at the older man. 

Awkwardly hovering, Hank started, “Do...do you-” He stopped, blinking, as Connor probed at his ribs and winced, a sound of discomfort leaving him. Hank’s jaw clenched and he held back from reaching out and surveying the damage himself, “Goddamnit, what can I do?” 

That seemed to surprise the android, and he looked up, brows furrowed. 

“There is nothing you can do, unless you have any thirium lying around, which is highly doubtful,” Connor’s voice was seemingly detached from the situation, and for some reason his words pissed Hank off.

They stared at one another for a moment, and then Hank rolled his eyes, muttering something about ‘plastic asshole’ and ‘ungrateful’, as he left the room. He didn’t have a whole lot of things as far as first aid went, but as he rummaged around in the medicine cabinet he figured it would have to do. 

He cursed as a headache began to make itself known, and the older man already regretted bringing the android home. Even if he was easy on the eyes.

This was going to be a whole lot fucking more than he bargained for.


End file.
